


the life that is not lived by chance

by pocky_slash



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Established Relationship, Introspection, M/M, Reconciliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-29
Updated: 2012-04-29
Packaged: 2017-11-04 13:10:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/394232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pocky_slash/pseuds/pocky_slash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Erik feels closest to Charles when he's been away.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the life that is not lived by chance

**Author's Note:**

> Just something quick to try and shake through my block. Thanks to **littledust** for her continued tolerance of me writing fic at her over chat. Title from "You are Everyone" by Dar Williams.

Erik feels closest to Charles when he's been away.

He doesn't have to go far--he can walk to the edge of the grounds or run into town to pick up supplies. He can be in the other side of the house. The distance doesn't matter, as long as Charles isn't there next to him, as long as Charles' mind isn't curling in and out of his own like a gentle tide.

The physical space doesn't matter; it's all about mental distance.

They fight about many things, still. More things than before. Erik blames his own single-mindedness and the joy that came from those first months of being together. They were so enraptured by each other that they shrugged off each disagreement, each dispute. They brushed aside their differences because differences were nothing but an obstacle to what was between them, hot and sharp and out of control.

It's been eighteen months since Charles first put his arms around Erik deep in the waters off of Miami and he no longer feels like he's going to be consumed from the inside out every time he looks at Charles. It's different now. It's not bad or _less_ , but different. He's less likely to push a fight to the side now that he doesn't have Shaw to focus on, more likely to let Charles know exactly what he thinks.

Their shouting rattles the windows, some days.

Those are the days that Charles retreats. He pulls back, the warmth at the edge of Erik's consciousness disappearing. His eyes go dark and shuttered and he finds excuses to be elsewhere. That's fine. Erik needs the space too.

So Erik walks around the grounds or joins Moira on the shooting range or drives into town. He disappears into his surroundings, invisible and unremarkable, impossible to pin down for a few long hours. He leaves and curls in on himself, stretches within his mind, but minimizes his presence out of it. He rearranges his anger, breaks it down and files it away. He remembers that his mother can rest in peace, that his enemy has been dealt with, that the rest will come with the same patience he applied to the long, arduous search for Sebastian Shaw. He breathes easier, incrementally, and he allows himself to begin to miss Charles.

There are dozens of reasons for him to flee, for him to do things his own way. He thinks at least a one or two of the older teens would follow him, even. He has the resources, still scattered across the globe, waiting for him if he ever needs them (a distant comfort on the days when the mansion feels claustrophobic). He's already half-formulated a dozen plans, a dozen courses of action that he thinks are more prudent than the compromise he and Charles navigate daily. He's unlocked his power; he doesn't need Charles to command his abilities.

Of course, that doesn't mean that he doesn't need Charles, and all those reasons to leave are pointless when there's such a compelling, vital reason to stay.

He spends his return unfurling, regaining his presence in the world, remembering why it is that he's here as he directs himself towards one of the three places Charles is most likely to be. Charles is petulant, but well-meaning. He's stubborn, but oddly practical. He's optimistic, but logical. He's careless, but so kind that Erik wants to hide him away from the rest of the world, hold him close and precious. He's the most beautiful thing that Erik has ever been allowed to have. And when Erik sees him, something clicks back into place. He's not invisible any longer. He's not hiding--he can't hide from Charles.

The passion may not be all-consuming any longer, but it's just as strong as it ever was. It's different, but solid and sure, warm and steady instead of hot and sharp. Better, almost, with the way that Erik is so sure of it, so certain it's not fleeting.

It rolls over him as he sees Charles standing by the window of his office and staring out at the grounds. The sunlight in his hair, the slump of his shoulders, the delicate way he's holding a teacup--everything about him is a confirmation that Erik has made the right choice. Everything about him validates Erik's reasons for staying. Everything about him makes Erik's heart sing.

He doesn't apologize for his words; he's not sorry. But he approaches Charles from behind and slides his hands down Charles' arms, allowing him to place his teacup on the windowsill before Erik slips their fingers together. The touch is a different sort of apology, a reminder that Erik is here, that this is more important than anything that could come between them. 

Charles turns his head and presses a kiss right where Erik's jaw meets his neck. There's a tentative pulse against Erik's mind and then a warm flood seeping inside. Charles sighs quietly and closes his eyes, resting his head against Erik, boneless and relieved. His thoughts twist around his own version of an apology, a suffusion of affection, a sliver of desperate love, an echo of Erik's name like a benediction. Another reminder that Erik has this, that it's his, that he's built for more than anger and destruction. He's built for this too, for holding and caring, for love and cooperation. Shaw was the one who made him a weapon and Shaw is gone forever. He can be whatever he wants to be and he chooses this--friend and lover and teacher. He chooses to be a man with a purpose of his own choosing.

He chooses to stand here in Charles' office and breathe in the smell of his shampoo, feel the iron in his blood pumping fast, but steady. He chooses the way his fingers fit against Charles', like they were meant to slot together in just this way. He chooses the way his whole body buzzes pleasantly where Charles touches it. He chooses to see how, despite all their differences, this will always be better than anything they could do on their own. They will always make a better pair, on the battlefield, in the classroom, in Washington, and right here, standing in the sunlight as the last of their argument fades from their systems and they breathe in time.

Erik feels closest to Charles when he's been away, when he can come back and hold on and remember, _Yes, yes. This is why I'm here. It's this._


End file.
